Marisa 16: Alpine Assignment
by Prof. Voodoo
Summary: A Section Two team is deployed to a tiny mountain resort town to locate a missing informant before the Padania finds him first.


As relative newcomers to the British Army the 22nd Special Air Service did not posses a depth of historical tradition enjoyed by other regiments, but what their headquarters lacked in the banners and ashes of ancient battles the men themselves made up for sheer cocky grit, bordering on the reckless. They also had a distinguished history of _not_ being there, as veterans of the special forces regiment were fond of saying. They had _not_ been in India as the country fractured into West Pakistan, India proper & East Pakistan, they had _not_ been on the Sinai peninsula during the Six Days War and they were _not_ in East Africa now. To Staff Sergeant George Bucknam it still felt _bloody_ hot for officially being back home in Britain.

**_Eritrea, 1972_**

The sixteen men of Squadron D Boat Troop wondered why _they_ had been the ones selected for a mission in the desert (a few among them doubted that the locals this far in country had ever even seen a boat). In recent months the war between Eritrea & Ethiopia had taken a bizarre turn as rival Eritrean factions had begun a civil war in the middle of an ongoing independence war. With the Soviet Union & Cuba supporting Ethiopia to the south Britain had sent a small contingent of _problem solvers_ to access the situation, and either report back or take action as their leaders in the field saw fit. For the most part these men had spent the time idling around their camp on outskirts of a refugee village, drinking tin cups of hot tea in the sweltering African sun and wondering when they would get to work.

This morning Sergeant Bucknam had been given special instructions by the Lieutenant in charge (a callow young man from the regular Army, completely out of his depth leading a detachment of Special Forces); "find me a linguist to communicate with a bothersome local."

"Well, I can speak a bit of Swahili, Sir" the Sergeant had replied, but his commander waved off the offer.

"Curiously this chap _can't_...he's a Somali from Ethiopia looking for someone who can speak _Italian_ of all things" muttered the Lieutenant. "Bit of an odd duck if you ask me."

"Yes sir," replied Bucknam with a grin, "but I have just the chap."

With little clouds of dust rising from his every footfall in the arid soil the Sergeant made his way to where the men waited, under a canvas shade tent stretched between an Acacia tree and their only truck. "Alboreto!" he called out, "Got a job for you!"

The 22 year old soldier did not snap to attention as a regular Army type might, but he wasted no time in rising to his feet either. Elio Alboreto swung his legs down from the crate where they had been propped up, and stood up straight all in one fluid action with not a bit of wasted motion. The dark skinned, black haired young man turned to face his NCO, replying "At your service, Sarge" respectfully, but with a cocky swagger that Bucknam liked to see in his men. The Major had high hopes that this particular soldier might soon earn honour for the regiment in the boxing ring, having recently fought a much larger Frenchman of the _Commandos Marine_ 12 rounds to a draw in an informal bout outside Dakar.

"Report to the Lieutenant" he told Alboreto, drawing a chorus of hoots and laughter from the other soldiers.

"What have you done to deserve this honour?" jeered a sun-burnt Private named Yardley, "Have you gone and knocked up one of the local lovelies?"

"Elio's half-Italian you twit!" scolded a Corporal to Yardley's left, "They're legendary lovers don't you know? Settling for anything less than a Chief's wife or daughter would be beneath our Corporal Alboreto!"

Allowing a brief snicker to escape under his bushy moustache before he tightened up the ship, Sergeant Bucknam snapped "Alright, enough you apes! _God's blood_...if they gave out medals for fornication the lot of you would have the George Cross by now! Alboreto, it's your other Mediterranean talents the Lieutenant wishes to make use of, so go ahead and don't make that great wincing ponce wait."

"I'm sure you meant _don't make our fearless leader wait_" teased the younger man.

"Oh, off with you!" snapped Bucknam.

Alboreto strode into the Lieutenant's tent and issued a salute. The officer returned his salute in perfunctory fashion and said "Corporal, these locals are seeking a man who can speak Italian...Sergeant Bucknam reports you are up to that task. I'll leave you to it." With that he walked out to attend to other business.

The family waiting in the Lieutenant's tent looked worn and haggard, like so many Elio had seen over the past few weeks. The mother held a child to her breast while another older boy (perhaps about 7 or 8 years of age) hung close to his father, clutching in his hands a glass of lemonade given to him by the Lieutenant. The head of the refugee family rose to meet Alboreto with a deferential bow, but Elio waved it off courteously. He understood that this man meant it with the best of intentions, but having grown up poor on the hard streets of Liverpool he had no stomach for such conventions.

"My name is Corporal Elio Alboreto, how may I help you?" he asked, polishing off his rusty Italian, a language he had not spoken a word of since the passing of his mother.

The surge of relief that took the Somali, and indeed his entire family was palpable. "_Grazie a Dio_" he answered; continuing in Italian "I thought I would never hear this tongue spoken ever again. How, sir, does an Italian come to be in the British Army?"

"I am English" Alboreto explained, "my mother lived her life in poor health and insisted that I learn the language in case I should ever need to go live with my father...who I'm told is a Lombardian."

"I see" replied the Somali, "most useful."

"It has not proven so until this day" Alboreto remarked with a sarcastic smile.

The man gave Elio a dismayed look of pity. "You have not used this tongue to speak to your father?"

"I have never met the man" Elio told him, getting a bit annoyed at the direction this conversation had taken. He had been called to help this family with _their _problem...not accept commiseration from those in far worse condition than himself. "I believe you had something you wished to discuss?"

"Of course" replied the Somali, giving another courteous bow. "Before the troubles I was the driver for the Italian consul in Negus. He promised to arrange refugee status for my family and help us to get to Italy, but I fear we have lost contact. May I implore you to carry a letter back to Europe, and mail it to the consul when you arrive?"

"I can do better" Alboreto offered, "my unit is in periodic communication with the British embassy in Addis Ababa. I can have your letter delivered to your consul friend via diplomatic channels. Beyond that I fear I can't do much...it will be difficult for him to arrange transportation from so far away."

"You are already doing enough" the man assured him. "I have not completely expended my resources & contacts. If my friend can provide the proper documents I can certainly arrange transit to Europe."

Elio knew something of the difficulties this man and his young family would face, but could not help but admire his commitment. Since arriving in East Africa he had met dozens of refugees who had traveled hundreds of miles across dangerous open country to escape war, protect their families and hopefully find a little peace. If he could hand pick a brace of such formidable men Elio was sure he could build a special forces unit to rival the best in Europe. _Of course _he considered, _that would entirely negate their efforts to __escape__ war_. "I wish you luck, Sayyid" he said, applying the honorific term sincerely.

"And you too, As'haab" replied the Somali, "I will pray that someday you may use your Italian to speak to your father. I know that by not being present for you he has lost more than he could possibly know." As the man spoke those words he laid a hand on the shoulder of his own son, who gazed up at him appreciatively, telling Elio that the boy understood a bit of Italian himself.

Eager to guide the conversation away from the topic of his own paternity Alboreto asked "And how about you, _giovannoto_; is your father teaching you the language?"

"_Sì, signore_, for when we live in Italia" answered the boy with not a hint of shyness.

He asked a simple question "_E qual è il tuo nome_?"

"Nihad, _signor_."

* * *

Elio awoke with a start. As the dream faded into fuzzy ambiguity he took a few seconds to orient himself to the waking world. He glanced over at the Section Two Agent in the driver's seat and muttered to himself "Nah...couldn't be."

Looking around the Ford Transit van Alboreto realized that only he & Nihad were awake. Outside the snowstorm had gotten worse, but the temperature inside the cabin was stifling. Marisa & Rico lay sprawled on the first bench seat directly behind him; their arms and legs comically intertwined. In the furthest row back slept Jean Croce, his face bathed in the blue glow of the laptop computer still sitting on his knees, head slumped against the window.

As the windshield wipers thumped back and forth, clearing a never ending issue of fat snowflakes from the driver's view, Elio poured a small amount of water on a cloth to wipe his face. "How are you doing Nihad?" he asked, "Ready for a driver swap?"

"Nah, I'm fine" replied the agent with a smile, "I took a long nap earlier today while you lot were loading out for the mission. I'll be good all the way to Madesimo; you go ahead and enjoy the peace & quiet." Both men shared a brief laugh at his remark...for the first 3 hours of the drive Rico had not shut her mouth even once, eager to let everyone know how excited she was to be going to a place with plenty of snow. "I could use some coffee if you don't mind."

"Think this snow going to slow us down?" Alboreto asked, unscrewing the thermos cap and filling Nihad's cup, which he accepted with gratitude.

The agent shrugged his immense shoulders and replied "Not much we can do about it either way. I doubt it though...it's too early in the season to expect the roads to be closed."

"If it's a simple matter of a closed road our government credentials will open things up" Elio said, "it's the actual conditions that have me concerned. Can our van make it if this stuff starts piling up?"

"We've got tyre chains and two cyborgs to push" Nihad laughed, "I think we'll be just fine."

**_Madesimo_**

Upon their arrival at the tiny mountain village that morning it became clear that the two cyborgs on this mission held wildly differing opinions on the subject of snow. The sky was clearing after the overnight storm & Rico had found happiness on a small slope of about seven meters. After getting a running start each time, she tossed herself downhill face first to slide down on the front of her coat. Even when she slid too far and thumped her head on the back of a wooden coffee kiosk Rico's enthusiasm remained undampened; she just scrambled back up the hill for another thrilling slide accompanied by triumphant laughter.

Marisa's take on the _winter wonderland_ was the sharp antithesis of her sister's. The red head clung as close as possible to her handler, insinuating herself into his coat in an effort to stay warm; an exercise which frustrated Elio immensely every time he tripped over her on the icy surface. "Damn it Mari, will you quit getting under-foot? You're going to make me break my hip before the mission even begins!"

"I can't help it!" the cyborg complained with her teeth chattering, "I'm turning into an _icicle_!"

Rolling his eyes Elio muttered "Well who's fault is that? I warned you it was going to be bloody cold up here and you still didn't pack any trousers!"

"Okay, okay; I'm wrong, you were right. My butt is still _freezing_!"

"If you trip me up one more time I'm going to remedy that condition for you myself!" warned Elio. Marisa had no doubts as to the veracity of his threat but the biting cold compelled her to live dangerously, she just fidgeted less as she pulled the wings of her master's coat around her more tightly.

Jean regarded the whole situation with apathy. Rico seemed content, and as long as she did not cost the SWA money by damaging the coffee kiosk with her head he saw no reason to sanction her. As for Alboreto's ridiculously permissive tolerance of his own cyborg's nonsense; that was none of his business. "_Doesn't Marisa have built in heaters for her diving missions?_" wondered the Field Commander, but he said nothing.

At last Nihad came walking down the stairs from the hotel. "We're all set" he reported. "The hotel was trying to put us in rooms on separate floors, but I got them sorted out." There was a hint of implied menace in the towering agent's voice.

"I'll get the bags!" exclaimed Marisa, darting out of Elio's coat. With a shake of his head her handler followed in order to prevent her from hefting every suitcase at once and thereby exposing the secret of her true cyborg nature. Such was her eagerness to get to someplace warm that Mari was likely to act without thinking things through completely.

Ferro's team was usually adept at having accommodation arrangements made well before the arrival of fratello teams but in this instance unreliable communications had made that impossible. It was decided to send a support agent along to attend to logistic issues so that Jean & Elio could concentrate on their jobs. An avid and highly skilled alpine skier, Nihad volunteered (indeed, campaigned heavily) for this duty as soon as it was mentioned. His supervisor acceded magnanimously, knowing Nihad would owe her in the form of a favor when she really needed it. Jean did not interfere or comment on Ferro's manpower decisions, and he had certainly enjoyed the hours of sleep he had gotten in the van.

Thanks to the efforts of Nihad the SWA detachment now had a suite and one adjoining room on the third floor. After carrying the bags up (no Michele Pagani style 5-star hotel with an elevator & bellhop service, this place) Jean set up in the master bedroom, Elio & Nihad in the adjoining room, with the girls in second bedroom of the suite. "Look" pointed out Rico, "we have a fireplace!"

An appreciative Marisa wasted no time in turning up the gas burners to their maximum, tossing her coat off and laying out on the carpet in front of the roaring fire. Rico sat down right next to Mari, chin resting on her knees as she watched the flames. "Just leave me right here" sighed Marisa, relaxing as the blast of hot air rushed over her body, "I don't even need a bed."

Her bliss was to be short lived; "Alright, mission briefing, everyone gather around" ordered Jean, laying paperwork out on the kitchenette table.

"_Aww man_" groaned Marisa, struggling to her feet after too brief a period of sublime warmth. She took a seat next to Elio at the round table and hoped this wouldn't take too long.

"For five weeks Public Safety has been in secret communication with a Padania agent who was looking for an opportunity to turn himself in and deliver testimony in exchange for protected witness status" Jean explained, showing a grainy security camera image around the table. "There was to be a meeting this past Friday, but our F.R.F. agent, Signor Luigi Cudia never showed up. He has dropped completely out of communication and Public Safety fears the worst."

"Says here we have an address where he was staying" muttered Elio, "where did that information come from?" It seemed too easy, and the old spy feared a trap.

"PS tracked his IP address," Croce replied "it wasn't easy...the cliché of seven proxies does not do this guy justice. If he was setting us up I think the address would have been easier to find."

"But this man wanted to turn himself in, didn't he?" Marisa asked, "Why would he still be hiding from Public Safety?"

Rico shot a concerned glance across the table at Marisa; her Jean was not accustomed to adults being interrupted by a cyborg during a briefing, but as was often the case the Field Commander seemed more concerned with the Five Republics Faction than a lapse in protocol by one of his subordinates. "He's still Padania," spat Jean, "if he doesn't feel safe dealing with the government he has good reason to feel that way. Furthermore he's a rat. Luigi Cudia isn't switching sides because of a moralistic change of heart...he's rolling over to save his own skin."

Emboldened by Marisa's successful disruption Rico ventured "Why? Did he do something to make his Padania friends mad at him?"

"That's what we'd like to find out" answered Elio. "More likely he discovered something way above his _security clearance_, so to speak, and the higher ups want him silenced."

"Oh," chirped Rico with a smile, "kinda like Mr. Adani!"

Jean steered them back on track; "Our primary objective is to find Luigi Cudia and bring him in alive with a secondary objective of eliminating any Republican Faction operatives who may be here in Madesimo hunting the same man. We don't have Public Safety support this time so be as tidy as possible. In addition, I don't need to remind you that we're _deep_ inside unfriendly territory. Don't let anyone bait you with political rhetoric...in fact it would be best if you spoke as little as possible." He directed that last bit at the two young cyborgs.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Nihad.

"Alboreto & I will be patrolling the town, looking for information" Croce replied, "I'd like you to head up to the ski lodge & the resort to fish for some information. Try to blend in."

"I'm a 2 meter tall black man in Northern Italy" joked the Agent, "_blending in_ could present an issue for me."

Jean was not in a bad mood, but not one for jesting either; "You're a tourist from Rome on vacation. You brought your skis didn't you? Buy a lift pass and go make some runs. Hang around the lodge. Ask around and see if anyone knows Cudia. If you need money take a couple hundred euros from the petty-cash envelope, just remember to save your receipts, Ferro will need them.

"Rico, get yourself ready. Inspect your side-arm and use the bathroom if you need to...we're going to work in ten minutes." With that Jean got up to attend to his own personal preparations.

The blonde cyborg turned to Nihad & smiled. "Enjoy your skiing today, sir!" she chirped.

Nihad leaned back in his chair and chuckled "My God; I am gonna have to buy Ferro a Christmas present to thank her for this job."

**_Delinquent Account_**

Marisa was puzzled. "I thought we were supposed to be walking around town looking for Mr. Cudia."

"We are" muttered Elio. He opened & held the glass door, Mari ducking to slip in under his arm, "we're just looking here first. Besides, _somebody_ neglected to pack warm enough clothes even though she was reminded to _several times_, so we need to do a little shopping." Mari cringed a little at his criticism.

Although Elio made a great display of his vexation at having to pay _tourist prices_ for items his cyborg already owned (sitting unused in her dresser back home) he had her pick out two pair of twill trousers, a fleece pullover and a 4-pack of heavy woolen tights. The establishment was an all-around kind of resort town store, selling clothing & accessories ("_A hundred euros for a pair of bloody sunglasses?_" Elio railed), ski equipment, mountaineering gear and assorted supplies for excursions into the surrounding hills. Among their best selling items were heavy expedition coats, fit for a trek up Mount Everest but more likely to be sported by fashion-minded _turisti_ sipping cappuccino at outdoor cafes. As Alboreto had observed (_multiple_ times) all of this was offered at exorbitant prices designed to tap the steady stream of vacation euros flowing into town.

"Will that be all signor?" asked the smiling sales clerk.

Alboreto balked at the number on the cash register and muttered "It better be all. Don't bag all of it please...my daughter will be wearing some of it out the door."

Before her handler could instruct her on what to wear Marisa snatched the pullover and the pack of tights, darting off to the ladies changing room with a "Thank you Papa!" Elio rolled his eyes. In spite of her well established reputation as an incorrigible tomboy Marisa had some unexplainable objection to wearing long pants...characterizing them as _Rico-wear_.

As he waited the sales girl made polite conversation "So are you in town for the beginning of the ski season?"

"I'd hoped to get in a few good runs" Elio lied. He'd learned to ski during SAS alpine training but had not used the skill much over the past 3 decades. "My daughter will be taking her first lessons."

"That's wonderful that you get to do it together" said the girl with a smile, "I learned to ski with my father as well. Where are you staying?"

"We're borrowing a friend's place" Alboreto answered, fishing for information "Signor Luigi Cudia. Do you know of him?"

The sales girl's face changed...she flushed pink with mild embarrassment. _Jackpot!_ thought Elio. "Umm...yes...well...I'm afraid..." she fumbled for words, "...sir, could you excuse me for a moment?" She hurried off, leaving Elio to smile at his good luck. Mari was soon at his side, stopping a few meters short to show off her new attire for his approval.

"Are you going to be warm enough in that?" he grumbled skeptically.

The cyborg pinched the dark blue tights between her fingers, pulling them out a bit and remarking "I have two pairs on!"

Minutes later the Manager arrived, shaking hands and bowing his head politely. "Signor, it's a pleasure to have your business. It's very awkward bringing this up but...your friend Signor Cudia has an account with us and I'm afraid it is _badly_ delinquent. He does not answer our telephone calls...do you by chance know how we could contact him?"

Marisa looked up at Elio, confused as to what she should do. "Damn it Luigi! Not this again!" the old spy muttered under his breath. "I'm very sorry about my friend; he's had problems like this before. Please...how much does he owe you?"

"Sir, I'm afraid our policy does not permit us to divulge such information about our customers accounts" apologized the manager. "If we could only trouble you for a contact number."

Alboreto did not relent. "Is it more than €5,000?" he persisted, "That's how much Luigi ran up at _La Rinascente_ in Milan. I hear he took Harrods of London for even more! _Ye gods! _How does he keep getting credit with that record of his?"

The cyborg at his side picked up on the act; "Papa, if Uncle Luigi goes to jail again will we have to leave his house and cut our holiday short?"

"No, I hope Luigi is not going to jail again, _mio caro_" Elio groaned, laying his hand on her head gently. "In fact...in order to prevent that from happening allow me to clear his account." Elio pulled out his Agency "bribery roll" and in a movement so fast only Marisa with her cybernetic eyes could detect it, he flipped it around to display the €500 bills. "Again I implore you, sir...how much does my friend owe? I assure you this is the _only_ way you are going to get paid."

Store policy was important to the manager, but the sight of large bills in front of him was a formidable temptation to bend the rules. In the end he surrendered to that temptation. "It is not as bad as some of your friend's previous...indiscretions" whispered the manger. He motioned for his clerk to call up the account in question. "Mr. Cudia is only in arrears €947.98, and since you are being so generous today I will be happy to forgo any delinquency charges."

"That is most kind of you" replied Elio graciously, peeling off his only two €500 notes. As the clerk counted out his change he added "Perhaps you could do something helpful for me. Confronting my friend over this matter will be somewhat awkward for us both; may I trouble you for a list of the items Luigi purchased from you?" Marisa smiled wickedly; her handler had been planning to do this all along.

Wearing the look of a trapped animal the manager conceded to his benefactor's request. "Certainly sir...but those records are not kept on premises. If you can drop by tomorrow I would be happy to give you a list."

"Thank you, signor" answered Alboreto with a smile, "and may I offer my apologies on behalf of my friend...I hope he has not inconvenienced you too badly."

"Not at all, sir!" the man assured him, "And may I thank you for helping us clear up this unpleasant matter so discreetly!"

Walking out into bright winter sunlight the fratello shared a moment of exaltation at their success. "That was awesome!" Marisa exclaimed, "You thought _so fast_! I'll bet that list is full of clues!"

"It never hurts to ask" Elio chuckled, accepting her glowing adoration with a grin.

Swinging the shopping bag in her hands the cyborg commented "It sure was lucky that I didn't pack enough warm clothes...we might never have set foot in that store otherwise."

The handler stopped right in his tracks on the snowy sidewalk and muttered incredulously "Well aren't you cheeky? Are you expecting to be praised for _pure dumb luck_?"

She turned, and wearing a mischievous smile replied "It never hurts to ask!"

**_ A Good Samaritan_**

It was not difficult to find Luigi Cudia's address; he had taken an apartment just off the _Via Giosuè Carducci_, one with a tattoria below. As he & his cyborg had skipped breakfast and had not yet had lunch Jean decided the small restaurant was the best place to start their investigation. While Croce knew he could push himself for days without a regular meal his cyborg was a different matter entirely. Rico (and indeed all cyborgs) lacked the ability to store energy in body fat, so she required fuel stops on a regular basis to keep her at top performance. Miss a meal or two and there was a noticeable drop off in both concentration & energy level. Factoring in the cold & 1,400 meter altitude Jean estimated his charge was burning as many as double the calories she normally required (already a considerable figure).

As Rico enthusiastically devoured a plate of fettuccine Alfredo, Jean endeavored to probe the staff for a little information. "Luigi Cudia?" muttered their waiter, "Let me guess, you're friends of his?"

Taken by surprise, Croce fumbled for an answer "Well...to be honest, yes...my sister & I came into town last night and were hoping to surprise him."

Rolling his eyes the waiter replied "Sure. Listen; if everybody who came around here claiming to be a 'friend' of Luigi Cudia was _really_ his friend the man might be able to borrow some money from them to pay his debts! Clever move bringing the kid along though...makes you look more convincing." He refilled Jean's coffee cup and whispered "So, how much does he owe _you_?"

Picking up on what was going on Jean played along with the situation; "Oh, more than some, less than most I should imagine. What kind of people come looking for Signor Cudia?"

"Locals...out of towners, you name it; Luigi owes everybody money" muttered the gossipy waiter. "That big clothing & sporting goods store on _Via Carducci_ sends somebody around at least once a day to knock on his door."

Slipping out his bribery roll so the man could see it, Croce muttered "I'm more interested in strangers from out of town."

Bribery was probably not necessary with this indiscreet waiter, but it certainly kept him focused on Jean instead of his other customers. "There were two guys from Milan here three days ago...asked a lot of questions...didn't tip worth a damn. Said they were _friends_ of his."

"Thank you" growled Croce. _So the Padania has been here already. _"I may want to talk to you again." Noticing that Rico was nearly finished he slipped a €50 bill under his plate. "You've been very helpful."

"Milan and now Rome!" laughed the waiter, showing off his talent for identifying accents "Signor Cudia seems to have _'__friends'_ all over Italia!"

"Are you ready, Rico?" Jean muttered, "It's time we checked out our _friend_ Luigi's apartment."

"But you've hardly touched your food" she replied with concern. Jean just got up without giving her a reply.

The apartment Luigi Cudia was renting had its own entrance so it would be easy to sneak in without being noticed. Re-enforcing what the waiter had told them the mail-slot was crammed with what looked like overdue bills, but Jean was not concerned with that. Aware of all the curious eyes in a small village like this he checked carefully before issuing the order "Rico, open it up."

"Yes Jean." The young cyborg drew her CZ75 and chambered a round before launching a spinning kick that cracked the door-frame. Even when assaulted by the extraordinary power behind Rico's boot the door itself did not break...it took one more good shove from her to force it open.

Inside the apartment, isolated from the clear sky & noon-time sun it seemed very cold. There were no lights on, and Rico's breath frosted in the dim blue glow from the windows as she searched from room to room.

Confident that there were no threats inside Jean pushed past his cyborg. It came as no surprise that Cudia was not there. Croce tried the usual detective tricks; he looked for a notepad next to the telephone (hoping to find at least the impression of numbers) but found nothing. In the closet he found a suitcase, empty, and plenty of clothing hung carefully. If Cudia had skipped town he'd done so in a hurry without packing much. Curiously, the slide-bolt on the door was engaged...the door had been locked from the inside.

"Jean" said Rico quietly.

"What is it?"

"There's somebody else in here with us. I can hear his heartbeat."

Croce pulled his Beretta and chambered a round as quietly as he could. With a nod to his charge he silently mouthed the word "_Alive_."

In one flying leap the cyborg crossed the bedroom. She landed on Cudia's mattress and after once bounce to dissipate her momentum Rico reached under the bed with both hands, dragging a curly haired man with a scruffy chin and black faux-leather jacket from his hiding spot. She threw him across the room where he crashed into a wall back first. Before the man could get to his feet Jean Croce had a pistol pressed to his forehead.

"Talk fast, Padania" he hissed, "I have a very itchy trigger finger and the longer this thing is pointed at your worthless skull the more likely you are to have a very bad day."

"Padania?" exclaimed the terrified man, "You mean those nut-jobs who set off car bombs? Holy shit man...I swear I'm not with them! Does it look like I can afford a _car_ to blow up?"

"Then I'm even more confused" Jean sneered, "if you're not Padania then who are you?"

"Nobody man!" he pleaded, "I just saw that window unlocked and crawled in to check it out...you know, maybe somebody forgot to lock their window and I was gonna do them a favor. I'm a good Samaritan, I swear!"

This thief had to be one of the dumbest people Jean Croce had ever run across, but that mattered little. "Tell me, what is a _good Samaritan_ doing hiding under the bed?"

"Well you people came in...busting down the door, I just panicked and hid under the bed! I thought _you_ were those crazy-shit Padania guys! Yeah, that's it...I'm on your side, I hate the Padania too!" the thief explained. He looked across the room and finally noticed that Rico was an eleven year old girl. "Holy Fuck, man...wait a minute, she threw me across the goddamn room? What the hell is going on here? Who are you people?"

"I want to know every single thing you know about Luigi Cudia" Jean ordered, "and I want to know it _now_."

"I...I don't know who that is, m-man!" he stammered, finally accepting that his long term prospects looked very grim. "Look, I'll come clean...this is just a break-in, man. I don't know shit, I just saw an open window and thought it was an easy score! I _swear_ I don't know a thing!" He was talking faster, in panicky bursts.

Croce finally released him. There was was no more reason to waste time with this fool...he wasn't even real Padania. Other men might feel the urge to deliver an ominous one-liner before consigning a man to his doom, but not Jean. He simply turned to Rico and muttered "Quietly."

Without a word his cyborg crossed the room and grabbed the thief by his head. Before he even realized what was going on Rico gave a savage twist, snapping the man's neck with a minimum of effort. She even set him down on the floor softly, to better comply with her handler's edict of silence. "Jean," she offered, "the pillow smelled like gun oil."

Even Jean was impressed by that. _She bounced off the bed in less than a second & still noticed a detail like that? _He walked over to check her observation, and it did not take cyborg senses to confirm that she was right. Cudia had been sleeping with a gun under his pillow. "Tear the bedroom apart if you need to" he ordered, "if that weapon is here, find it."

**_A Fellow Foreigner_**

Contrary to his concerns about blending in Nihad was finding himself quite the _célébrité du jour_ at the ski lodge. His exotic distinction as the only two meter tall man of Somali decent was making it easy to strike up conversations with the locals & tourists alike. Not a single one had heard of Luigi Cudia though...obviously he was not a regular on the ski slopes. Nihad was about to give up when he was summoned to the end of the bar by a janitor, who attracted his attention with a subtle flick of his head. He was a black man like himself, though by his hairstyle and general appearance the Section Two Agent guessed that this man was West African.

"I have heard that name you are asking about" he janitor whispered "Luigi Cudia."

"Have you seen him?" asked Nihad.

"Never" the informant replied, "but men came three days ago asking for him as you do now." Without another word the janitor motioned for Nihad to come meet him outside. So that they would not be seen leaving together the Agent took a few moments to finish his drink.

When Nihad reached the service entrance behind the lodge his contact was not there. A set-up was unlikely, but he gave his hidden Beretta a subtle check just the same. He found himself a bit irked that the only other black person at the entire ski resort was the janitor. Amongst friends at the SWA it was something that Nihad seldom gave a moment's consideration but here, surrounded by affluent vacationers, it was a glaring reminder that despite living his entire adult life in Italy...the nation he served and considered home...he would always be in some part a foreigner.

These thoughts were interrupted by the crunch of work boots on icy, hard packed snow. Nihad's informant had come up from the basement, nearly sneaking up on the Agent. "Go ahead and tell me what you've seen" he invited, but the janitor shook his head.

"C'mon man...I see you skiing, buying drinks...you know how this work, you gotta come with some dash, big shot." Grimacing, Nihad drew out his cash roll (which had been steadily shrinking throughout the day). He drew a little satisfaction from recognizing the man's Nigerian slang, confirming his guess that this man was from West Africa, but that did nothing to mitigate his displeasure at parting with another €100. "Gonna cost more than that" argued the janitor, pushing his luck a bit, but this time Nihad stood his ground.

"If it's worth it" he growled, letting the informant see a few more fifty euro notes but not handing any of them over. "Who was asking about Luigi Cudia?"  
Apparently he was confident that his information was in fact _worth it_ so the janitor explained "Last Friday a bunch of guys come around looking for your man. None of them was dressed to ski, but they wasn't mafia either. Short, tight haircuts, all of them, not like the mobsters wear." He ran a hand across his own close cropped head to demonstrate the similarity. "Young guys too...oldest one was maybe thirty."  
This fellow was coming up with decent information, so Nihad pressed for a few more details; "How were they dressed? Business suits? Casual?"

"Little bit military looking" answered the janitor, "not uniforms, but pants with a lot of pockets...jackets & sweaters. Every single one had combat boots on."

"Weapons?" asked Nihad.

The man shook his head. "I didn't see none. Couple of them stayed by the cars so I didn't get a good look at them."

"There was more than one car?" pressed the Section Two man.

"Two" replied his informant, "each car had 5 guys in it."

_Ten Padania foot soldiers_ thought Nihad. He briefly considered discussing this information with Elio before presenting it to Jean Croce...the Field Commander was likely to get fixated on the F.R.F. targets and lose his focus on the real purpose of the mission; recovering Luigi Cudia. After mulling over this possibility for a few moments Nihad decided to play things by the book, but with a degree of caution...he'd make sure Alboreto was there to help him gently steer Croce back on target if he did get distracted. "That helps me a lot" said Nihad, peeling off another €50 bill, "have you discussed this with anyone else?"

"No brother, you're the first" the janitor promised.

"Good" Nihad replied, adding one last fifty to the bribe, "keep it quiet for at least one week...and don't mention _me_ to anybody."

Smiling, the man tucked his €200 in the breast pocket of his coveralls and assured Nihad "_Ho capito_, but after that week this info is back on the market to anyone who asks and comes with the right dash. So are you some kinda bill collector or something?"

"I'm here to collect alright" muttered the Section Two Agent, but left it at that.

**_Dinner_**

As they had planned that morning the three components of Section Two's team gathered at the hotel for dinner to review what had been learned about Luigi Cudia. There was a buffet of alpine specialties on offer which, after the cold day spent for the most part outside, caught the full & immediate attention of both cyborgs. For Rico and Marisa filling their plates quickly turned into a game, the girls competing to see how high they could stack their plates with food. A solid foundation of boiled potatoes, followed by cabbage and topped with local sausages made a formidable tower when shored up by wedges of Aschbach magro cheese.

"It's not a competition. You two stop playing with your food" rumbled Elio, "you can always go back an get more if you want."

Marisa was about to offer excuses but before she could answer Rico spoke for the both of them, simply replying "Yes sir" as she balanced a wobbly tower of food half-again as tall as her plate was wide.

"Well don't be wasteful" admonished the older handler, "I expect you both to finish what you've put on your plates."

"That won't be a problem for _either_ of us!" giggled Marisa.

It drew a chuckle from Elio, who muttered "No, I suppose it won't."

Having already made his selections and taken a seat Jean watched Alboreto & the girls with interest. He was struck by how naturally the older man interacted with the cyborgs, and it made him reflect on his own conduct. Privately Pieri Lorenzo had counseled him to take advantage of what he could learn from Elio Alboreto. While the Section Chief had assured Jean that his role as Field Commander was in no doubt he did let Croce know that he expected him to continue developing his leadership skills and working with Alboreto, who carried with him three decades of experience, was an excellent opportunity to do so. Jean saw no reason to deviate from the straightforward & terse manner in which he treated the cyborg units, but an ability to put on a more convincing public show seemed to him a worthy goal.

Once the five members of Section Two had taken their places at the round booth-style table Jean wasted no time & began the review of what everyone had learned. "Did you have any luck at the ski resort, Nihad?"

"Not a lot" confessed the Agent, "but I've got a pretty reasonable guess at how many personnel the F.R.F. has operating in town. We're dealing with at least ten of them."

"That's hardly an issue" muttered Croce, casting a glance at the two cyborgs, who were paying more attention to dinner than the discussion. "I'll be doing the expense log tonight; how much did you go through?"

A little embarrassed, Nihad replied "Quite a bit actually. I have €280 in receipts and I had to drop a €200 bribe as well."

"Well, it's an expensive business. I'll draw some extra petty cash from the hotel ATM" Jean said, scratching down the numbers in his notebook. To him they were just that...numbers. "I had to lay out €50 for a bribe too."

Her attention momentarily drawn away from her plate, Marisa looked up and boasted "We've got both of those beat!" She was quickly silenced by an annoyed glance from her handler.

Notebook & pencil still in hand Jean looked to the older man and asked "How much did you have to spend?"

"About €950" Elio admitted.

"Jesus Christ" groaned Croce, "are you fucking with me?"

"It's recoup-able as soon as we secure Cudia's bank accounts."

"Which are _empty_ according to everything I've found out today" hissed Jean.

Alboreto shrugged his shoulders and agreed "Yeah...that's pretty much what I discovered as well. The reason I had to spend so much was to get a list of what he's purchased recently at the biggest store in town. It might give us some clues as to where he's gone."

"Alright, that could prove useful" Jean conceded, taking a bite. "Based on what I saw Luigi Cudia is still alive and probably in hiding. He escaped his through his apartment window and is most likely armed."  
"A window?" asked Nihad, "How can you be sure?"

"Cudia's door was locked from the inside but there was a thief inside the apartment when we got there," Croce explained, "he'd come in through an unlocked window."

Elio gave a concerned scowl and inquired "Where is he now?"  
Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly Jean replied "Still in the apartment...Rico broke his neck." Marisa turned to her cyborg sister and silently mouthed the word _cool_, but the blonde girl only shrugged like her handler and went on eating with a smile.

"We've been in town less than a day and you've already killed a civilian?" muttered Alboreto "Suddenly I don't feel so bad about laying out a thousand euros for a shopping list."

"He won't be missed" was all Jean had to say before moving on. "At this point I think we have enough information to begin constructing a time-line. On Friday Luigi Cudia missed his meeting with Public Safety. That same day Nihad's informant at the ski resort saw two car loads of men...probably Padania...searching for him. It's likely that these men came looking for Cudia, who took his gun and escaped out the window. Question is...where is he hiding?"

"Hopefully his shopping list will give us the clues we need" Elio suggested between sips of his beer.

By this time the two cyborgs (who had been paying only half attention to the grown-up conversation) had finished their first course, even wiping their plates clean with bread from a basket on the table. With the same enthusiasm with which they had conquered the dinner buffet Rico & Marisa launched an attack on the dessert table, returning to where Nihad & their handlers sat carrying plates laden with locally baked _pasticceria_. Seeing an opportunity to put into practice his new resolve to lay on a more convincing public show, the Field Commander growled "That's an awful lot you've got there...I expect you both to finish what you've put on your plates."

Glancing at Alboreto, Jean was surprised to see not the look of approval he had expected, but one of shock & dismay. "Jeeze, Jean..." whispered the older man, "...that's an _enormous_ amount of sugar! Are you _trying_ to have them bouncing off the walls all night?" Still, he made no effort to countermand or alter Croce's order, and in minutes the two girls had polished off their dessert as well, down to the last pastry flake just as they had been ordered.

Chuckling at the whole incident Nihad threw fuel on the fire by suggesting "Anyone up for an after-dinner espresso?" but Elio simply furrowed his brow and rumbled "I think _not_." Although he tried hard to maintain his usual grim visage Jean Croce actually flushed pink in the embarrassing light of his faux-pas.

* * *

There was little more which could be done that night so after dinner the Section Two party retired to their rooms. There was a television in the main suite; usually a tantalizing novelty to cyborgs forbidden from having such a device in their dorm rooms, but both Rico & Marisa ignored it in favor of sitting in front of the fireplace. That suited each of the men, as they all had their own plans for the evening. Nihad had driven straight through the previous night and fatigue was catching up with him, so after giving the hotel receipts to Jean he politely excused himself and took some well deserved rest.

Elio had visited the city hall that afternoon and procured some detailed maps of the area, which he now laid out of the kitchen table to study with a magnifying glass. He did this for a few hours, until a glance at his watch impelled him to tell the girls it was time to get some sleep. It was earlier than their usual lights-out time back at the dorm so Alboreto expected some complaints but to his relief both cyborgs found themselves quite worn out by the busy day spent outside in the cold and eagerly welcomed the coming of bed-time.

During this whole time Jean had sequestered himself in his master bedroom, trying in vain to get his daily report e-mailed off to Ferro. The surrounding mountains conspired with foul weather to block his efforts though, and by the time Elio poked his head in Croce was frustrated & ready to surrender. "Jean, the girls are both in bed. I noticed a taverna down the road about 200 meters...you feel like grabbing a beer or two?"

Croce looked up in surprise. In all his years with Section Two he could not remember any handler (with the exception of his brother) inviting him out for a drink. The Field Commander's mind raced with conspiracies; _Is Chief Lorenzo putting him up to this? Is Alboreto himself trying to work some angle on me?_ The older man's face was sincere though, and Jean accepted the possibility that a beer might just be a beer. "I'm not getting anything accomplished here" he sighed, closing the lid of his laptop "and actually, a beer sounds good about now. What about the cyborgs though?"

"Fast asleep" answered Elio, "they were out as soon as their heads hit the pillow. If they wake up and need something I'm sure Nihad can handle it. Grab your coat."

**_Night Out_**

The snow had begun to fall again, accompanied by a chilly wind from the east so both men hurried down the street as fast as their dress shoes (poorly suited to the slippery sidewalk surface) would allow them. It was with a mutual sigh of relief that they finally ducked into the shelter of the _taverna_. Elio had chosen a place frequented by locals rather than tourists; it was smoky and a bit crowded but he managed to stake out a two stools at the bar. The place seemed unfamiliar to Jean who, coming from a wealthy family, had not spent much time in neighborhood taverns such as this one. He tried his best to relax, loosening his necktie and lighting up a cigarette while Alboreto ordered.

"Two _Nastro Azzurro_ drafts, _per favore_" Elio told the bartender, who made cheerful conversation.

"Cold out there?"

"Aye," chuckled Alboreto, shaking a few snowflakes out of his gray hair, "I dare say we could do with a shot of Irish to chase off the chill as well. You Jean?"

"Eh, sure" replied the Field Commander, a little awkwardly. He did not feel like admitting he'd never tried Irish Whiskey so it was with some trepidation that he accepted the shot-glass of amber Bushmills. While his older counterpart downed his own shot quickly Jean took it a bit slower, carefully analyzing the taste and finding it to his liking. Putting the shot-glass down he instructed "Another one of those, bartender."

It did not take long for shots of whiskey chased by lager to loosen the tongues of both handlers. As usually happened when men in their profession sat down to drink the conversation turned to their respective military experiences. "There never really was much of a doubt for me" Jean explained. "My Grandfather served with Rommel in Africa...he filled Giuse & I so full of glorious war stories that I'm surprised we didn't quit school and run off to join the military when we were six. Now that I'm an adult I wonder how many of those stories were really true. A lot of the places, times & dates he told us about don't exactly match up with history."

"I don't think it matters" Alboreto replied with a shrug, "he sounds like a nice old guy who loved nothing more than entertaining his grandsons. Why ruin the memories you have of him by over-thinking things? It's not as if knowing the exact historical truth would have made you any less likely to join the Carabinieri."

Croce let out a short but sincere laugh...the feeling was so alien to him that it almost made him cough. "You're right. Dad wanted me to follow him and go to law school but...well...maybe I just resented how much he left us alone while I was growing up. So what did I do? I joined the Military Police and left my sister alone. Christ it's true...this bullshit runs in families no matter how hard you try to break the cycle." Jean tossed back another shot of whiskey and tapped his glass on the bar to order the next.

"You know you're not obligated to carry that weight for the rest of your life" Elio counseled, slapping his younger commander on the back. "I understand how much anger you feel about what happened, and the decision you & Giuseppe made years ago, but one day this is all going to be over and you need to make sure there's something left of you for when that day comes."

It felt like the hundredth time he'd heard that. "Yeah...you're right, Lorenzo's right, hell even Ferro's told me that. When I reach that day I'll tell you how it went." Feeling they'd spent enough time focused on himself Jean maneuvered to shift the topic. "What about you? How did you wind up on this path?"

Playing up the humour of the story Elio replied bluntly "Well...I got drunk and 38 years later I found myself sitting in a bar in Madesimo with you. Personally, I blame Jimmy Page."

"I have a feeling it's a lot more complicated story than that" said Jean, now laughing naturally.

"Okay" Elio sighed, taking a long sip of his beer, "I really didn't have much of a plan when I finished school. I had a six-string guitar so I figured I'd just learn to play and become a rock & roll star."

"Wait...you couldn't even _play_?" muttered Jean.

"Only enough to impress birds & get laid" admitted Alboreto, "I knew a few blues chords but that was it. Well, one day in 1968 I listened to my first Led Zeppelin track on the radio and at that moment I realized I'd never be a rock star. So I got pissed drunk and wandered into the Army recruiter's office the next morning. My 18 year old ale soaked brain figured it was a good place to spend a couple of years until I decided what I was really going to do with my life. Sometime after basic training my Sergeant told me I could earn bonus pay if I volunteered for Special Forces. At the time I thanked him but halfway up the mountain at Pen y Fan I could have murdered the bastard. Still, I made it through the try-out and wound up in the 22nd SAS...Boat Squad, which was ironic since I'd never set foot in a boat before.

"I had my share of adventures but after one particular escapade I decided it might be wise to seek other employment. Let's just say it involved a woman and a lot of poor choices. Luckily for me the Ministry of Intelligence came knocking so I didn't have to go on the unemployment dole. More adventures ensued & along the way I met Pieri Lorenzo. Years later, just as I was making an attempt to retire he swooped in and got his hooks into me."

"It sounds so simple when you tell it like that" Jean commented.

Downing a shot of whiskey Elio muttered "Well I left out the part about getting shot in the gut and being addicted to opiates for seven years."

Their trip to the tavern for "a beer or two" was fast turning into an all-nighter but Elio was unconcerned. Enjoying a pleasant buzz he watched Jean with satisfaction. One of the long term tasks Pieri Lorenzo had assigned him was to provide counsel or even a degree of mentoring to the high-strung Croce & tonight he was satisfied with how things were going. The young Field Commander was carrying a friendly conversation over a few drinks, and even laughing occasionally so Alboreto allowed his guard to slip a little.

As the night wore on Jean & Elio even struck up conversations with some of their fellow tavern patrons. Alboreto was at first concerned that Croce would slip back into _work mode_ and begin asking questions about Luigi Cudia, but that was not how it went and Elio felt confident that his fears were misplaced. So confident was he that the gray bearded Agent felt safe leaving Jean for a few minutes to go visit the men's room.

After relieving himself Elio washed his hands and splashed a little water on his face. He was having a good time but both he and Jean had to work tomorrow, so Alboreto reluctantly resolved to call it quits after one more beer...and maybe a last shot of whiskey to ward off the chill on the walk home.

Elio walked out of the restroom, back into the cigarette smoke & noise of the tavern, and it took him a few moments to notice something strange going on near the bar. His slightly intoxicated mind snapped to alert when he realized there was a scuffle going on, and it involved his companion. _Damn it_, Alboreto cursed himself for leaving Jean alone. It was difficult to get across the crowded room quickly without knocking people over and potentially making the situation worse but the Agent picked his way through as fast as he could. "What's going on here?"

In just the time it had taken Elio to take a piss Jean's genial, relaxed mood had turned savage. He had his back to the bar, cornered by three locals. "Got some Padan sympathizers here" he hissed, his right hand creeping toward the knife Elio knew he kept hidden on his belt. At least he had not reached for his pistol yet.

"Take your ass back to Rome you _pezzo di merda_" growled one of the men, obviously drunk & ready to fight. Elio laid a restraining hand on Croce's arm and shook his head. Grudgingly the Field Commander took his older colleague's advice and withdrew his hand from the knife hilt. For their part the three locals took a step back when their opponent gained an ally, but they still possessed the courage of liquor & the strength of numbers on their side.

"You three get the hell out of here!" barked the bartender, "I've warned you before...I'm calling the police if you come in here looking for trouble again!" Alboreto rolled his eyes; what had started out as a harmless trip down the street for a drink was rapidly turning into something very bad. The last thing he wanted was police involvement...at present the local cops were unaware that a Special Operations team was operating in their jurisdiction.  
"Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!" shouted one of the three antagonists. "This asshole thinks all our tax money ought to be sent south for the immigrants and mafiosi crooks!"

Croce had taken his hand away from his blade, but he was still ready for a fight. "Sometimes I think the North _should_ secede just to get rid of ignorant bastards like you" he sneered.

"_Not helping, Jean_" Elio muttered under his breath, not sure if Croce could even hear him. It didn't matter much because one of the three locals chose that instant to strike. Knowing that even in his inebriated stare Jean Croce would easily kill these men, Alboreto threw himself in the way and pushed the man into a table. Drunk & wobbly to begin with he fell easily, but one of his friends flashed a switchblade. If the bartender saw that he was sure to call the police, so Elio blocked his line of sight and lunged for the weapon. He caught his opponent by he wrist and twisted hard, causing the man to shriek and drop the knife, which the old spy caught with his other hand and tucked safely out of sight. The last of the three rushed to his friend's aid, but before he could hit Elio he was knocked down by an open palm strike from Jean.

It was over in a few instants. Other patrons stepped in to chase the troublemakers out while the bartender shouted more threats about calling in the police. It was then that Elio noticed a bruise on Jean's cheekbone. "Did one of them catch you?" he asked.

Before Croce could answer the bartender explained "It wasn't your friend's fault...he was minding his own business when those three assholes stumbled in and started talking loud about the Padania movement & Northern independence. We get a lot of that sentiment here in Madesimo but we also depend on tourism income from the South so when drunks like that start stirring up trouble we try to run them out of here. Anyway, your friend here was trying to ignore them but they kept slapping him on the shoulders and trying to draw him into their group. The instant he spoke up to tell them _fuck off_ they recognized his Roman accent and one of them sucker punched him."

"You alright?" Elio asked quietly.

Jean was annoyed by the incident but otherwise fine. "It's not as if I haven't been punched in the face before" he muttered. Alboreto nodded in agreement. Fernando, Jacob and his own ex-fiance's brother had all hit Croce at one point or another, and those were just the ones Elio knew about.

"Listen, I can't promise those guys won't be back...with friends" apologized the bartender, "do you want me to call the police?"  
"No" answered both Elio & Jean in unison.

With a nod the barkeeper acceded, he really hadn't wanted to deal with the police tonight anyway. "We should get going" Elio said, "we've both got to work tomorrow. Have you got a back door we can use?"

**_Phantasm_**

Stepping out into the cold night air was a huge relief to Alboreto, but he fast realized his companion was a lot more intoxicated than he'd guessed. Jean was having difficulty keeping his balance on the slippery sidewalk, a problem not helped by his hard soled shoes.

"Take it easy mate...we're in no rush" Alboreto assured him, offering a hand to balance on, but Croce waved it off in annoyance.

"I'm fucking fine" the Field Commander muttered, his speech badly slurred. In a poorly thought out attempt to demonstrate how '_fine_' he was Jean strode forward with misplaced confidence and stumbled badly, slamming his knee into the ice. Alboreto rushed to help him up but to his surprise Croce took a fierce swing in no particular direction and yelled "Goddamn it leave me alone, I'm doing the best I can!"

Not knowing whether to be surprised or offended, Elio took a step back and left Jean alone for a few moments. As he remained on his hands and knees Croce's lips were still moving; muttering something under his breath that Elio could not hear. The older man realized that Jean had not been talking to him at all...he was hallucinating & carrying on a conversation with someone that was visible only in his own mind. This was not an ideal place for Jean to be having a mental breakdown, but there was little Elio could do to help so he sat down on some recently swept steps and waited for the worst to pass, watching the street carefully for nosy onlookers or worse; the troublemakers they had crossed paths with at the tavern. To his relief the frigid night air was good keeping the streets clear.

Jean had stopped talking to himself...or his imaginary conversation partner, but he remained on his hands and knees for almost a full minute. When he finally did push himself back to his feet the Field Commander teetered awkwardly for a few moments before staggering to a snow bank and retching violently. "This was a bad idea" Elio muttered to himself, giving his colleague time to empty his stomach contents onto the snow.

Croce at last stood up straight, looking around with a blank expression as if he was surprised by his surroundings...or more likely the sudden absence of the person he was talking to. In an effort to regain a degree of composure Jean smoothed the wrinkles from his coat and straightened his tie, but he still seemed dazed and unsure about the next step.

"You alright, mate?" Alboreto finally spoke up.

"Yeah" muttered Jean, "I'm fine."

"Well let's get going then..." Elio replied with a nod "we have another busy day tomorrow."

* * *

For various reasons nobody got up at the crack of dawn that next morning. Nihad was the first awake. He set about cooking breakfast, thinking the smells would rouse everyone else, but once finished he still had to go wake the girls. Elio got up on his own and took some coffee, but he advised Nihad to let their Commander sleep a bit more. "I'm going to take a walk across town and go fetch that list the store manager promised me" he informed the support Agent.

Marisa, still in her nightgown, had just taken a seat at the table but she hopped up and yawned "I'll go get dressed."

"No, you take your time and eat" admonished her handler, "I'll just be gone a few minutes...you & Rico see to the breakfast dishes since Nihad cooked. Nobody bother Croce until he's ready to wake up either."

Marisa would have preferred tagging along with her handler to staying behind and washing dishes (_a task at which she had a great deal of experience_) but an order was an order so she replied "Yes sir" with a sleepy nod.

They did not have to wait long for Jean to make an appearance, albeit a brief one. When he heard the door close at Elio's departure the Field Commander poked his head out of the master bedroom. "Where's Alboreto off to without his cyborg?" he inquired.

"Gonna pick up that list he paid a thousand euros for" answered Nihad. "Come grab some food while it's hot."

"For that kind of money they should deliver" Croce muttered, the closest thing to a joke that the support Agent had ever heard from him. "I'll eat in a little while" Jean said before closing his door.

Nihad had missed it, but something had caught the attention of both cyborgs. They looked at each other with wide eyes and whispered in their _cyborg-speak_ voices, too low for any human to hear. "Rico, did you see your handler's face? What happened?"

"He has a bruise...somebody must have punched him!"

"Well Nihad went to bed before we did. Do you think Elio did it?"

"He wouldn't be the first. Lots of people have punched Jean. When I ask him about it he always tells me _never mind_. I guess the best I can do is just keep him from getting punched when I'm with him."

It did not take Alboreto long to return with the list of items Luigi Cudia had purchased on credit. When he arrived back at the hotel suite the girls were busy washing the breakfast dishes while Nihad set aside plates for Elio & Jean. The gray haired man did not get to sit down and eat immediately though, as Croce opened his door and quietly summoned him inside.

"Some interesting stuff on this list" Elio commented, but he already had a feeling Jean did not want to talk about the mission so he closed the master bedroom door behind himself.

"I have no doubt" sighed Jean. "Before we get to work I'd like to apologize about last night...I don't remember everything but I know I behaved like a complete ass. If I can ask you a favor...will you let me explain this to Chief Lorenzo before you speak to him? I'm not asking you to keep any secrets from him, I'd just like him to hear what went on directly from me."

Elio was taken aback by that. He'd never intended to mention the matter to anyone, but obviously Croce felt differently about the incident. "Jean, what went on last night has nothing to do with the mission or the Chief. We went out for a few drinks after work...some local assholes baited you and caught you with a sucker punch...if anything I think you showed impressive restraint by not killing them." Trying to steer the conversation he added "How's your face anyway? Looks better than last night."

"I scooped some snow off the windowsill and it took the swelling down" Jean answered but he remained focused on the negative aspects of the previous night. "I was actually talking about later...when I could barely walk and took a swing at you."

Elio felt very uncomfortable discussing this, but he judged himself already in too deep to tactfully back out now. Jean Croce was, after all, one of the projects he had been assigned by Lorenzo. He sat down on the chair across from where Croce sat. "Last night I got the feeling it wasn't me you took that swing at" Alboreto suggested, "it seemed like you were carrying on a conversation with someone else."

Croce was silent for almost a full minute, but he finally answered "It happens sometimes when I'm drinking. Goddamn Bianchi is always trying to get me to talk about it, but it's nobody's business but my own." Thinking that was all Jean was going to say about the matter, Elio began to get up but he was surprised to be interrupted; "Hallucinations, ghosts, an overactive subconscious...whatever you want to call them they bother me when I'm drunk. It started happening a while ago, not long after we missed Christiano Savanarola in Milan...the Chief made me take some time off and I had a vision of my dead sister, the one I told you about. I can't remember who it was last night but it's always someone I failed to protect. My sister...my parents...Sophia...hell I even saw Beatrice once; she didn't say a thing, she just stared at me. They're always pressuring me...always berating me for not pushing hard enough."

"I'm sorry" muttered Elio, not sure of what else to say "I didn't know...perhaps I shouldn't have pushed you to come out to the bar last night."

With a derisive snort Jean dug into his bag and produced a half-empty bottle of grappa. "If I hadn't been drinking with you I'd have been drinking alone."

"So why do you keep doing it if you know you've got these demons?" asked the older man, but it was a purely rhetorical question.

"I figured if anyone would understand it would be you" was Croce's answer. "You told me yourself that you struggled with opiate addiction for seven years. What made you keep doing that to yourself?"

The question made Elio flush with anger. _What right does this young punk have to ask me a question like that?_ He wanted to tell Jean to go fuck himself, mind his own business...but that was wrong. _Jean has every right to ask me about that because he's asking me for help getting through this_. Taking a deep breath he shared something only he and the Chief knew; "A doctor prescribed morphine after I got shot in the gut...that was 1986, in Cyprus. It should have ended as soon as my hospital time was over, but I started self-dosing because...of someone I failed...an Italian intel officer working under Pieri Lorenzo; she was his protégé, really. She was wounded and held captive right alongside me but she didn't make it...she died in that sewer. The last thing I said to her was something completely asinine that I wish I could take back. For a long time it was just easier to keep pushing forward and doing my job if I was getting high all the time."

"I'm hoping it gets easier with time" sighed Jean.

Elio shook his head. "No, it doesn't" he replied, "you just get better at dealing with it."

**_Into the Mountains_**

"What do you suppose they're talking about?" whispered Rico as the two cyborgs hung near Jean's master bedroom door, trying in vain to eavesdrop. Marisa shrugged her shoulders and tried harder to hear what the two handlers were speaking about. "Do you suppose it's something _we_ did wrong?"

"I don't know" answered Mari, "I can't think of anything we've done wrong...recently."

"Hmmm...I forgot to brush my teeth last night" Rico offered, "but I don't think anyone noticed."

"I noticed" muttered Marisa, rolling her eyes.

They both jumped at the sound of Nihad's voice. "You two sure you want to get caught standing right there when that door finally opens?" he chuckled. Accepting the wisdom of his warning the pair reluctantly wandered back over to the fireplace to wait. "I'm sure they won't be too much longer" said the Agent, "I can't imagine Jean Croce wasting any more daylight than he absolutely has to."

Nihad was correct; soon after he spoke the master bedroom door opened and both handlers walked out. "We've just been reviewing this list of Luigi Cudia's purchases" began Elio "and it looks like it was worth every cent. A heavy expedition coat, snow-shoes, a sleeping bag, cooking gear & food."

"Indications seem to suggest that Cudia was outfitting himself to hide up in the mountains" Jean concluded. "I see no reason to waste time on extra investigation here in town. We'll be searching the mountains today. Alboreto, you were looking over those maps yesterday evening, where do you believe is the best place to start?"

It was a purely rhetorical question, he & Jean had already discussed the day's plan in the bedroom, but Elio answered for the benefit of Nihad & the girls. "There are 10 cabins in the area...intended to provide shelter to hikers & mountaineers caught outdoors in a storm." He pulled out a map of the surrounding area. "Cudia was terrified of getting found by the Padania hit squad, so it's a safe bet he's gone for one of the more remote ones...here, here & here" he pointed them out on the map. "They're miles from the ski resorts, so we'll need transport."

"Now would be a good time to have a helicopter" muttered Nihad.

Jean shook his head. "Not practical" he replied "even if we could communicate with headquarters and get one up here it would set off a red flag to the Padania team that we're operating in town. Furthermore, Luigi Cudia is likely to run if he sees a helicopter."

"Snowmobiles then?" suggested Nihad, "I already looked into those, we can rent them at the resort."

Croce nodded. "That's probably the best option we've got. Give them a call, get three of them lined up for us. What about the rest of our supplies? Snowshoes, emergency food, that kind of stuff."

Elio answered "Still in the van." He turned to the cyborgs, who were still in their sleep-clothes and instructed "Dress as warm as you can...boots, Gore-Tex socks to keep your feet dry, thermal long-underwear."

"Let's get moving" Croce finally ordered, "we're getting a late start and I don't want to get caught on the mountain overnight."

* * *

It was past noon by the time the Section Two team climbed into the hills. Nihad had been able to secure the desired three snowmobiles but they were sport models for entertaining tourists, ill suited to carrying multiple riders, heavy gear and spare fuel cans. None of this met with approval of the ski resort that owned the vehicles, and Jean ended up laying down a security deposit sufficient to have _bought_ a single sled.

Another hour was spent locating the snow covered trail that led up to altitude, and the climb itself, spent on a meandering route through the dark conifer forest wasted yet more time. Jean's prophecy about running out of daylight was looking more and more likely.

At last they cleared the tree-line and broke out into blinding sunlight and sharp wind. Marisa clung to her handler's coat tightly, using his body to shield her from the biting alpine gusts, but when they stopped for Jean to pull up alongside & check their position on the map she leaned back & braved a look around. "It's...it's..."

"Awesome, isn't it?" asked Rico, who sat a meter away on the back of Jean's snowmobile, "You can almost see all the way to Milan from up here!"

"It's spectacular" gasped the red-head, "it's so clear." She took her eyes off the view and said directly to Rico "Almost worth getting frozen down to our bones to see this!" As the Agency's designated diving cyborg Mari was no stranger to breathtaking sights, but underwater, even under the best of conditions visibility ran out in less than 30 meters...usually much less. With their sharp mechanical eyes the girls could pick out every detail for hundreds of square kilometers around them; Rico enthusiastically pointed at a peregrine falcon riding the air currents about 2000 meters away.

"Rico, Marisa" snapped Jean, never taking his eyes off the map, "there should be a cabin within a hundred meters of this point. Give me a visual & thermal sweep...find it."

"Yes sir" they replied, almost in unison. Rico trudged out into the deep snow (sinking up to her waist without the benefit of her snowshoes) for a look around while Mari stood up on the seat of Elio's mount. If there had been a fire burning in the cabin its chimney would have showed up as a glowing target that could not be missed against the snow, but neither cyborg could detect any heat signature. It was a discouraging start. "I'm not seeing anything" said Rico, Marisa shook her head as well.

"Keep looking, your eyes are a lot sharper than ours" Elio ordered before going back to the map. "The next cabin is eight klicks from here. I don't think we're going to make it there and then back down the mountain by nightfall."

Gritting his teeth Jean growled "We've wasted a whole day." Both men could easily tell he was blaming himself for the mornings delays.

"We'll get an earlier start tomorrow" Nihad consoled him, "at least we've made reasonable progress." He and Elio exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing. Croce was going to consider the day a failure and obsess over it all night.

The cyborgs saved everyone from that fate. "Rico, look, what's that?" said Mari, pointing out a nondescript shape in the snow. It certainly wasn't a cabin.

"Down by the tree line? It's only a wood pile" answered the blonde girl.

"Duh," muttered her cyborg-sister, "what would a wood pile be doing up here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Technically it's the _top_ of nowhere" Rico chirped in response. Mari only shook her head.

A look through the binoculars confirmed a cabin-sized snow bank near the wood pile Marisa had spotted. "We'll get within a hundred meters and dismount" Jean decided, "if Cudia is inside he might get spooked and run if he hears engines approaching...and I don't feel like chasing that bastard all over the mountain."

"Get your snowshoes on" Elio instructed the cyborgs, "as soon as we cut the engines you two be ready to jump off and move in...fast & quiet. Be alert; if Cudia is inside he may be waiting, remember he's armed."

Rico turned to Marisa and suggested "Let me lead; I'm more bulletproof than you."

Keeping the snowmobiles as quiet as possible Jean, Elio & Nihad drove the last 900 meters, heading down-slope toward the tree line. As they got closer the outline of a roof became more obvious, as did a few inches of stone chimney that poked out the top of the snow bank. "Get ready" warned Jean, applying the brake, "Go...Now!"

In a flash both cyborgs jumped into action, thumping through the deep drifts on modern aluminum framed snowshoes. It was an strenuous hundred meters, even for the mechanical girls, both of them tumbled face first into the snow more than once but they still covered the distance in a fraction of the time it took the three grown men who followed.

Communicating only with hand signals Rico & Marisa circled the cabin and found a door. The snow had been cleared recently...somebody had to be inside. As they had planned Rico took point, and as soon as both of them had chambered a round in their pistols the blonde girl slipped her snowshoes off and delivered a spinning kick to the door. With her CZ75 aimed into the dark cabin she tossed herself down on her belly and Mari stood behind her using the doorway for cover. Nothing moved inside the cabin, and there was zero infrared heat signature.

Panting far harder than the cyborgs that preceded them the three grown men finally arrived. "We found him" reported Rico with her typical spooky calm. Lacking the night vision of their young charges the men required a large floodlight to illuminate the cabin, but once Nihad had switched it on the agonizing final minutes of Luigi Cudia became chillingly clear.

The man was stripped to his boxer shorts and taped to a chair with his feet in a tub of what was now solid ice. A plastic cup half frozen in the tub, and icicles hanging all over his body told the story. The Padania hit squad had gotten there first and used cold to provide the traitor with a horrific death. Cups of water had been poured over Cudia as he slowly froze. His face was locked in an expression of terror...it was likely that his cause of death was a heart attack but he had obviously suffered intensely before that happened.

"Take a look at this" muttered Elio, pointing out supplies that had been thrown around the cabin when it had been ransacked. "Batteries, snowshoes, freeze dried food, sleeping bag...it's a match for the shopping list. From the look of it he'd barely been up here a few hours when they caught up with him."

As the adults examined the cabin both cyborgs looked upon the frozen corpse of Luigi Cudia with morbid fascination. Rico poked him a few times, fascinated at how the whole body moved as one solid piece as if it were made of wood. Marisa, for her part, stayed a few steps back. She did not like the cold and as such this man's death seemed particularly horrific to her. A chill ran down her spine...a strange, uncomfortable sensation for the normally fearless cyborg.

"You two leave that body alone" ordered Elio, so the two cyborgs stepped away and rejoined their handlers. "We're burning valuable daylight...what do you want to do now, Jean?"

Taking a deep breath the Field Commander muttered "Nihad, get some photographs and do any forensic work you consider important. We'll leave the scene as-is but we should take the body back for examination."

"Forensics shouldn't take long" replied the support Agent, fishing a digital camera out of his coat pocket "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say this was murder."

"Take pictures of the body first so the rest of us can go strap him down to the back of your snowmobile."

"Oh hell, why mine?" protested Nihad.

Elio actually chuckled at his aversion to carrying the dead body and joked "You're the only one without a cyborg to carry."

"He's frozen solid!" Nihad pointed out, "What if pieces start breaking off?"

"That's a good point" sighed Croce, who did not see the humour in the situation, "Let's try zipping him up in the sleeping bag and dragging him down the mountain. Is that more acceptable?"

"Vastly" answered Nihad, as he photographed the frozen corpse.

Seeing an opportunity, Marisa grabbed Rico & piped up "Can we go bring the snowmobiles down?" Her counterpart smiled and nodded emphatically.

Croce ignored their question, passing the decision along to Alboreto; "I don't know, can you do it without acting crazy, crashing into something or starting an avalanche?"

"We'll be _really_ careful!" his red headed student assured him.

Briefly considering the consequences of such a move Elio decided there wasn't much damage they could do and consented. "Alright, but I'm coming with you. Jean, we'll be right back."

The three exited the cabin, Elio genuinely concerned that he was making a mistake he would never live down. As he mulled over the ramifications of allowing two cyborgs to ride snowmobiles solo he was tackled violently. Dazed, he tried to register what was going on...Marisa had tossed him to the ground and before he knew why Rico grabbed the collar of his coat and dragged him back inside the cabin. Splinters of wood rained down on him. "What the hell was that?"

".338 Lapula" replied Rico with calm intensity. Both cyborgs already had their pistols drawn but neither had returned fire.

Jean pressed his back against the wall and risked a look around the corner but he saw nothing. "Damn it, the Padans were up here waiting for us. We walked straight into a trap!" A few more bullets struck the cabin walls but made little impression on the heavy log structure. They were safe inside. "Alboreto, are you hit?"

"I'm fine" he answered, "thanks to these two...I was totally off my guard. Just dumb luck that they missed."

"Dumb, sir, but not luck" Rico pointed out, "the sniper didn't re-sight his scope for the cold temperature & thin air. It can throw an amateur off." Elio's bushy gray eyebrows rose. Rico was the last person he'd expected to hear _cockiness_ from, especially at a time like this.

"Get that door shut, don't give them a second chance" ordered Jean. As soon as Marisa had slammed the only entry point the Section Two team took stock of their predicament. "We can reasonably assume we're up against all ten of them...maybe more" began Croce, "and if they have a .338 caliber sniper rifle it's a safe bet they have other combat weapons. There's only five of us, all with 9mm pistols and limited ammunition."

"But two of our number are cyborgs" Nihad pointed out, "that can even the odds."

Jean shook his head. "I'm not willing to risk a counter attack until we know more. Because of potential blood loss a single bullet wound could be fatal to any of us in these temperatures, even the cyborgs."

"Aye" muttered Elio, getting to his feet with help from Marisa, "and it's going to get colder tonight. -35 Celsius easily at this altitude."

"We've got to counter-attack sometime" contended Nihad, "and the longer we wait the more likely they are to call in re-enforcements. We on the other hand have no means of communication...my sat phone hasn't worked all day." Elio & Jean each checked their own handsets and found that weather interference had rendered all of their phones useless.

Croce spoke next; "I agree, we're going to have to counter attack soon. We're safe here for the time being though. They can't penetrate our walls, there's only one entry and we're covered in snow so they can't burn us out."

"The best way to maximize our cyborg advantage is to hit them at night" said Elio, "the girls have better infrared & night vision than anything the Padania could be using...if they've got that capability at all." He looked at both of the cyborgs and added "That's going to mean a long, cold wait. We all need to save our energy by staying as warm as possible. You should both try to get some rest."

"One of us has to stay awake" said Marisa, "if the enemy moves on our door only Rico & I can hear them coming." The three men had to concede that she was right.

"Fine" Croce growled, risking a dangerous peek out the door, which was met with the sound of a few more bullets thumping on the wood outside. "There's wood in here, let's try to start a fire."

Nihad was already crouched in the stone fireplace checking it out. "No chance, this chimney is packed with snow."

"Shite" Elio growled, "alright, grab whatever bedding you can find...the sleeping bag, sheets, coats, extra clothes. Everyone huddle together on Luigi's bed, we're going to have to share body heat." He and Nihad got into place, with the girls nestled between them, but Jean continued to pace like a caged animal. Alboreto did not want to do it in front of the others, particularly the cyborgs, but he rumbled forcefully "Jean, this is not an option."

"I'm fine" was all the Field Commander said as he continued to walk the floor.

The older man did not accept that. "As of this moment your body heat is a shared commodity. Even if you can survive tonight the cyborgs have smaller bodies, they lose heat faster than we do. It's our responsibility to keep them alive just like it will be their responsibility to spearhead the counter attack when it's time. This is non-negotiable...get in the damn bed Jean."

Jean Croce had no argument to counter that, so he grudgingly climbed into the bed and under the covers with the rest, Rico tucked comfortably under his left arm.

**_Snow Battle_**

With the light shut off to save battery power it was now pitch dark. The two cyborgs slept & stayed awake in two hour shifts but there was little to listen for. The Padania force had peppered the cabin with bullets a few times during the daylight but they now seemed content to hunker down and wait for the inevitable showdown. Earlier the SWA team had checked out the freeze dried food laying around the apartment, but with no fire or liquid water it was useless. They had emergency rations out on the snowmobiles...100 meters away.

There was not even enough light for cyborgs eyes to detect, but somehow Marisa could sense the lifeless body of Luigi Cudia just a few meters away. In the silent darkness she had lots of time to think about what freezing to death must feel like. She considered the consequences of losing this coming shootout with the F.R.F. agents. Elio, Jean & Nihad would surely wind up like Cudia...frozen solid in the snow, but she & Rico would not share that fate if they fell. Their lifeless bodies would be carried back to Milan as trophies by a triumphant Padania team who had managed to kill two of the "demons." They would certainly be dissected, and the secret of cyborg technology would be revealed.

"Elio?" she whispered.

"Aye lass?"

"What is it going to take to win?"

Her handler took in a deep lung-full of chilly air...Mari could almost feel his breath frosting as he let it out slowly. "We've got to flank them somehow. In a straight up crossfire they're going to get us because we're limited on ammunition. I've been sitting here trying to figure out a way to hit them from multiple vectors, but our best defense, the one door, is now our worst liability."

"What if I could ski out?" offered Nihad. Alboreto had not even known he was awake, listening.

"How do you intend to do that?" hissed Jean, "Your skis are back in the van."

"Is _anyone_ actually asleep?" asked Rico. "I guess not."

Nihad explained his plan; "Cudia has a set of touring skis. They're too small for me but I could squeeze into the boots and give it a try. If I can move fast enough I can make it to cover down the hill and attack them from behind."

"Take a cyborg with you" said Jean, "you'll get down there and won't be able to see shit. Rico or Marisa can be far more effective...if you can get them into position quickly enough."

Elio shook his head. "You'll both be cut to ribbons the instant you step outside that door. This plan could will only work if we can launch you out of here already at speed. For that we need snow."

Rico chimed in with the solution; "What about all the snow in the chimney?" Everyone was silent for a few moments, considering the possibility, so she continued; "We can dig all that snow out of the chimney and build a runway to launch Mr. Nihad & Marisa out the door. Then I'll be able to climb up and poke my head out to give everybody fire support. Too bad I didn't bring my SVD."

It seemed reasonable to both cyborgs, but they knew the decision was not theirs. Everyone waited for Jean Croce to make the call. "Elio & I will rush out the door and make a break for the tree line to engage. We'll have three firing vectors...honestly I can't think of anything better. Opinions?"

"I'm willing to give it a try" offered Nihad.

Elio admitted "It's not the dumbest thing we've ever done. Not by a long shot."

"Then let's get to work" decided Jean.

The men took it in turns to hold one of the cyborgs up in the chimney while she knocked snow out with a ski-pole. The others collected the loose snow and piled it into a runway that aimed straight out the door. Once this task was complete the matter of ski's for Nihad became priority. There was duct tape in Elio's backpack, but it was still sitting on the snowmobile a whole football pitch away so old line had to be used to tie the towering African's feet into the boots. "Is that cutting off circulation?" Elio inquired, tying the laces tight.

"Yes" groaned Nihad, "but I'll only have them on for a few minutes. I can last."

"What's next?" asked Rico.

Her handler replied "We need to get you up the chimney."

Marisa stopped them; "Hold on...we've all been elbow deep in cold snow, we should reheat ourselves before the fight so we're all sharp."

"That will take too long, Mari, poor Nihad's feet are going to fall off if we wait" pointed out Elio.

"I can warm us all up faster" volunteered the red headed cyborg, "huddle around me...I can use my internal heaters."

Her handler had misgivings; "Marisa, that uses an enormous amount of your chemical energy. If you don't get food in you soon after that you'll shut down and die."

"We _all_ die if we lose this fight" she argued, "there's emergency rations on the snowmobiles...if we win we have access to them and we all get to eat. If we lose it doesn't matter much anyway." For dramatic effect she added "Much must be risked in war."

Reluctantly accepting her logic, Elio was the first to step forward and accept her gift of artificial body heat. "Make sure your weapons are preheated as well" he reminded everyone, "it's cold enough that gun oil can solidify and cause a jam."

"Major Mancini told us that back in the Second World War the Communists put gasoline in their gun oil" offered Rico, joining the huddle.

"That's right, Zhukov's Soviet forces at Stalingrad added petrol to their gun oil to keep it from freezing up" Elio replied, "but unfortunately our only gasoline is a hundred meters away like everything else we need." He wasn't sure what surprised him more...Rico remembering such an arcane detail from History class, or the fact that Avise Mancini had actually said something remotely positive about the Soviets.

* * *

It was time. As Elio got Marisa & Nihad ready for their dash out the door Jean lifted Rico up the chimney to her into position, issuing orders not to pop her head up until he gave the signal. What ammunition they had was divided up...there was a reasonable amount available but each Section Two member only had one spare magazine so reloading would be dangerously time consuming.

"Rico is in position" said Jean, walking over to help launch Nihad, "she'll begin providing cover fire as soon as the door opens. Elio & I will be right behind you. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be" muttered the Somali. Elio lifted Marisa up to his back where she hung on tight, trying not to choke him. "I've never done this before."

"What, skiing into a wall of armed Padania?" teased Elio.

"No, I've done that," Nihad joked "just never with a cyborg hanging onto my back."

Croce got them back on track; "If you're prepared we'll send you out in 5, 4...3...2...1" Jean threw the door open and together with Elio launched Nihad outside with as much speed as they could supply him with. The Padania sniper was alert though, and saw his quarry making what he assumed was an escape attempt. Still moving slow, the huge black man on skis would be an easy target so the sniper brought his Sako TRG rifle to his shoulder and lined up for the first kill of the night.

He was not to have it though, as a better sniper already had his number. Rico fired one shot from the chimney, blowing a hole in his right temple. Nihad & Marisa built up speed and passed the Padania contingent safely, but they had to jump a small one meter ridge and Nihad's makeshift binding broke on the landing. It was not ideal cover but they had achieved the desired flanking position.

Jean & Elio burst out of the door just seconds after Nihad, taking advantage of the confusion as every Padanian was distracted by the man on skis. It did not take long for them to be noticed, and both men had to duck behind trees to avoid bursts of machine gun fire from multiple weapons.

From the rooftop Rico might have provided them fire support but she had a battle of her own to contend with. No sooner had the sniper fallen dead another F.R.F. soldier picked up the rifle and lined up to take a shot at her. The blonde cyborg was safe in her stone cocoon but this problem had to be dealt with before the powerful weapon could be turned on her friends. She risked popping up and fired one more shot, hitting the man in the chest, but another would be sniper snatched up the rifle. This time Rico did not aim at the man, but the rifle itself, scoring a direct hit on the receiver assembly. "Darn" she muttered to herself, having wasted a bullet with no kill to show for it, but at least the dangerous Sako rifle was out of action.

Marisa & Nihad were pinned down, drawing most of the enemy fire. "I can't see a damn thing!" growled the Agent. It was a tough position...they had the low ground, 25 meters away from the well dug-in Padanians.

"They're right there!" Mari pointed out, benefiting from her superior cyborg eyes. "Two o'clock! Just fire where I'm pointing!" A scream from the enemy line confirmed that she had hit & wounded one of them.

Rather than fire blindly and waste bullets Nihad made a tactical decision. "Marisa give me your magazine as soon as you empty it!" he ordered, drawing a handful of loose 9x19mm bullets from his zippered pocket. Nodding to show she understood Mari ejected her magazine after five more shots (and another scream; this one had been a fatality) and gave it to the Agent before slamming in her only spare. While she fired at the enemy he whipped off his gloves & reloaded her 15 rounds with cold, numb fingers.

Ducking from tree to tree the two handlers stayed at a 90 degree angle to each target they engaged...a tactic that allowed them to double-team and outflank anyone they came up against. Under these circumstances the Padanians foxholes were a liability. When it became apparent they were trapped each man scrambled out and tried to flee, only to sink into the deep snow. Both Jean & Elio could move with relative speed thanks to their aluminum snow shoes, and neither of them gave any quarter.

What the two handlers could not see was a final team of three Padania commandos who had slipped away and outflanked them. Rico could see them, bright infrared silhouettes against the frozen background, but she could not get a shot so she did the only thing that made any sense to her. The cyborg hopped up out of her cover and threw herself face first down the roof, sliding on the front of her coat. The thick snow made it easy to transition to the ground, and with her CZ leading the way she continued her slide straight into the trees. A burst of fire killed one of the Padanians and alerted the handlers to the others. Just in time to avoid the blast of full automatic fire intended for them Jean & Elio lunged into abandoned foxholes. Before they could be chased down and cornered (these last two enemies _did_ have snowshoes) Marisa & Nihad came charging in from the low ground, eliminating them both.

"Heat sweep the area!" ordered Jean.

Marisa responded "Only bodies, sir!" Rico tried to get up but broke through the snow and was once again up to her chest...it took Nihad & Elio to pull her out. After the intense firefight it seemed unbelievably quiet, with only the sound of panting Section Two members and wind rustling the pine branches. Blood splattered on the snow looked black in the moonlight but none of the F.R.F. commandos moved again. The one Marisa had wounded was the last to die, having lost crucial body temperature quickly while bleeding in the snow. From beginning to end it had taken less than 120 seconds.

Surveying the carnage Jean counted corpses and finally declared "Well done. Is anyone wounded?"

"Perfect score, boss" Nihad exulted, "ten dead, not a scratch on our team!"

Croce gave an approving nod, and even cracked a small, self-satisfied grin. "There's no way we're getting down the mountain until morning so stack the bodies outside the cabin and prepare to hunker down for the night. Elio, take the cyborgs and go fetch the snowmobiles. Nihad, let's get some wood together and start a fire. We'll melt some ice for water and see what kind of freeze dried food Luigi Cudia has provided for us." He directed the last bit toward Elio. "I personally intend to to have a large dinner since we paid almost €950 euros for it."

As Jean walked away to begin collecting the bodies Alboreto grinned broadly and finally broke out laughing. "What's so funny?" asked Nihad.

"I dare say _Jean Croce_ just made a joke!" chuckled the older man.

**_Wrapping Up_**

The Section Two team spent two more days in Madesimo tying up loose ends. Communications with headquarters were finally restored and a Public Safety cleaner team arrived to help with the mess. As Jean & Elio worked with them Nihad was charged with giving the girls their first ski lesson...with mixed results. Rico proved much better at falling and sliding down the hill face first, and after a few of her own face-plants Marisa conclusively declared that she was ready for summer to return.

A final meeting between the two handlers and the Public Safety team took place at Madesimo's city morgue. "Forensic evidence indicates that Luigi Cudia died three days before you found him" the head PS investigator concluded, "There's no way you could have gotten to him soon enough. Under the circumstances I'd say the mission to bring in Cudia was our failure...Special Ops did a fine job eliminating a whole Padania cell."

"Everything Cudia was going to tell us is lost" growled Croce. He'd come to the conclusion that this was Public Safety's fault two days ago and he didn't need some self-important investigator to tell him that. "Do you need anything else from us?"

"No," answered the PS team leader, "you guys are free to go...we'll send a final report to your Section Chief."

Annoyed at being dismissed by the people who had acted slowly and ruined the operation before it even started Jean simply turned and walked away, leaving Alboreto to play politics and thank the Public Safety team for their help. He had to hurry to catch up with the Section Commander, who was already half a block away. "Don't take it so hard Jean" the older man advised, "they got the better of us this time but we made them pay for it. Ten dead Padan foot soldiers isn't bad considering we blundered right into an ambush. All told I'd say we broke even."  
Croce paused long enough to light a cigarette. "I suppose you're going to tell me that obsessing over it isn't going to change the end result."

"You said it mate, not me."

It was difficult to read Jean's intentions through his dark sunglasses, so Elio waited to see how his younger colleague was going to deal with this. Finally Croce muttered "Public Safety's got custody of all the evidence...Nihad's got the cyborgs up at the ski resort until this evening, and we're not driving back to Rome until tomorrow morning."

"Aye" replied Elio, "we've got nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon. Have you got something in mind?"

Exhaling a deep lungful of L&M smoke Jean finally confessed "Yes...actually I do. I was having a good time the other night at the bar, before I got sucker punched. I'd like to give it another try. Are you up for a beer or two?"

With a grin and an approving nod Alboreto answered "First round is on me."

**THE END**


End file.
